


Red Roses

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Really Character Death, Pining, Roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Loudmouth has never believed Rabble, Ruckus, and Mischief could ever love him the way he loves them.





	Red Roses

**Author's Note:**

> This started because of a discussion with [Kris](https://www.kristsune.tumblr.com) and it's an alternate universe for our [Flowers and Tattoos AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/671504) Rabble, Ruckus, and Mischief belong to them!

Loudmouth doesn’t say anything when he starts coughing up flower petals.  They’re beautiful, he thinks, and fitting. Velvet red rose petals, darker in spots with blood, fall from his lips with each shortened breath.  

He ignores it.  He hides the petals, dries them and tucks them away in a box, uses them in his art, and smiles whenever Rabble tells him how beautiful they are.  He hides the tissues, the soft white stained with crimson where he’s wiped the blood off his mouth before anyone can see it. He can’t tell them what’s happening, that he can feel the thorns growing inside his chest and tearing him apart, that the vines are slowly stealing his breath, that his love for them is slowly killing him.  He doesn’t want to bother them with that, with asking for so much, so he hides it.

It gets harder to hide when he struggles to catch his breath just walking up the stairs to their apartment.  He stops going for his usual run in the mornings - he still leaves, so they don’t suspect anything, but he walks to the park to watch the sun rise.  He isn’t sure how many more he’ll see, so he wants to savor every one. He paints as much as he can; it’ll be enough to leave them a decent amount of money to take care of themselves.  

Eventually, Loudmouth knows there’s no way he can hide it.  When Mischief gently takes him aside and asks if everything is okay, he just smiles and says he must have caught a bug, he’s fine, he’ll go to the clinic and get something.  He’s used to hiding pain, he learned to do that early, and he’s only gotten better over the years. Mischief gives him a worried look, but he accepts it; why would Loudmouth lie to him?  He feels a twinge of guilt, but the stabbing pain of the thorns digging into his ribs from the inside distracts him. 

He stops eating - everything tastes like coppery blood and the overwhelming sweetness of roses, and it makes him sicker.  He excuses himself constantly to cough up the choking soft petals, and he throws them out by the bagful. There are more and more by the day, and he knows he doesn’t have much longer.  

He almost leaves.  He thinks about it, going home, letting them at least have the mercy of not being the ones to find him when the time comes.  He doesn’t, but he writes a letter to his mother anyway, tells her that he loves her. He doesn’t tell her goodbye, he can’t bring himself to say those words yet.  When he finishes that, he writes one for Mischief, for Ruckus, for Rabble. He tells them he loves them too. He doesn’t say goodbye in those either. He seals them all up, leaves them where they’ll be found when it’s time, and he swallows down the grief and rose petals.

When Loudmouth’s body finally gives out, Rabble is there to catch him.  He’d barely made it up the stairs, but as soon as they get to the apartment, his legs give out.  He tries to brace himself, but his head is spinning and his body won’t respond. When he opens his eyes again, his head is in Rabble’s lap, and they’re both shaking.  His hearing fades in and out, and he closes his eyes again to the sound of Rabble begging Mischief and Ruckus to get home as soon as they can, and begging  _ him _ to stay awake.  He feels guilty when he realizes Rabble is having a panic attack, but he can’t find the energy to apologize or try to comfort him.  “Hurts, Rab’ika,” he whispers, as Rabble wraps around him, rubbing his back as another coughing fit wracks his body, petals tumbling from his lips with the blood that floods his mouth.  

“I know, I know, I’m sorry- just stay awake, please, don’t leave me,” Rabble whispers back, “Please, don’t go.”

Loudmouth wraps a weak hand around his wrist, leaving a bloody handprint.  He can’t speak, but he hopes Rabble knows he doesn’t want to.

He’s vaguely aware of the door opening, and Mischief lifting him as Rabble explains everything, words tumbling over one another as Ruckus wraps him up in his arms.  “How long have you been like this?” Mischief asks, and Loudmouth manages a little shrug. 

“Few months?” he says, before another wracking cough shakes him apart.  

Mischief’s voice is heavy with grief as he sighs, “Oh, Lud’ika…”  When he sits down on the bed the three of them share, he holds Loudmouth against his broad chest, and Loudmouth soaks in the warmth of him as much as he can.  It feels  _ nice _ , and he’s going to miss this.  “Loudmouth, we have something to tell you, and we need you to listen;  _ really listen _ , okay?”  He waits and looks down at Loudmouth until he nods weakly.  

Loudmouth shakes through another coughing fit, but he makes a questioning sound. He  _ wants _ to listen to Mischief’s voice, low and rumbling against his back.

"Lud'ika, we love you. And I don't just mean platonically. We all love you very much. You are as integral part of us as me, or Rabble or Ruckus. All four of us are one.”  Mischief sounds like he’s crying, and Loudmouth thinks he is too. He’s wanted so long to hear those words, but he can barely believe them.

He shakes his head, whimpering at the way the thorns dig deeper into his chest and throat when he does.  "But... you've been with each other for so long, I don't want to come between you-" It takes longer than he’d like to get the words out, broken by more coughing.

Rabble squeezes his ankle from where he sits at his feet, swallowing hard before he says, "You could never.  The only way you could be considered being between us, is being part of the glue that holds us all together."  

It’s too much, but he whispers, “You mean that?”

“Every word,” Ruckus says gently, wiping the blood from his lips.  The look in his eyes is one Loudmouth will never forget - he’s seen it before, but he’d never recognized what it really meant until now. They  _ love _ him.  The same way he loves them.  The relief - the sweet feeling of being able to  _ breathe _ again - overwhelms him, and his throat tightens again, but it’s not with the sharp, cruel feeling of thorns ripping him apart anymore.  

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as Mischief wraps around him, rubbing his back and shoulders, “I never wanted to bother you.”

Rabble’s smile is soft and shaky.  “You could  _ never _ bother us, Lud’ika.  Never. We love you,” he says as firmly as he can, tucking himself into Loudmouth’s side, as Ruckus carefully wipes away the blood that soaks his skin and holds a glass of water to his lips, letting him wash away the taste of copper and roses for the first time in months.  

* * *

It isn’t long before Loudmouth feels Rabble trembling again, and he tugs him closer, pressing a weak kiss to the top of his head as he feels tears soaking into his shirt.  “I’m sorry,” Rabble whispers, “I thought- I thought you were going to die.”

Loudmouth doesn’t say that he thought he was too.  “I’m here,” he says instead, “It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry-  you’re the one that almost died…  I just don’t know what we’d do without you.”  Rabble is crying harder, curling up in Loudmouth’s arms as Mischief and Ruckus hold them both.  

“You won’t ever have to find out.  I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”  Loudmouth closes his eyes, relief and love and a thousand other emotions washing over him.  He can  _ feel _ how much they love him, now that he understands, and he doesn’t know how he never saw it before.  “I’ll be okay.”

Recovery is a process - the damage left behind by the roses will heal, but it’s slower than he’d like.  He spends a lot of time painting, with Rabble resting his head on his lap while they sit together. They’re more affectionate than ever, always hugging him, resting a hand on his shoulder or back, kissing each other…  He’d always wanted to be loved, but he’d never imagined it could feel as wonderful as this.


End file.
